


The Truth About Plants & Queen

by ShortInsomniac98



Series: The Truth About Plants & Queen Series [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Radio, Banter, Bisexual Gabriel, Drunk Gabriel, Flirting, Human AU, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Human Gabriel (Good Omens), Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, New Year's Eve, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex, Radio, Radio Host Anthony Crowley, Supportive Gabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-01-23 08:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21316906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShortInsomniac98/pseuds/ShortInsomniac98
Summary: Human AU - Anthony Crowley hosts a late-night radio show, of which Zev (Aziraphale) is a casual listener. One night, his roommate Gabriel encourages him to call in to say hello and request a song. Zev and Anthony hit it off surprisingly quickly, and Zev becomes a regular caller. Flirty banter ensues, and Zev soon finds himself falling for a man he never met. Based on an anonymous request on my Tumblr blog.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Truth About Plants & Queen Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604206
Comments: 91
Kudos: 572





	1. New Year's Eve

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a play on the 1996 romcom, The Truth About Cats & Dogs, which I realized seemed very similar in many ways to the AU which this anon requested. I have altered a few things about the plot and taken out all the angsty bits, leaving it as what I hope will be the silly, happy gay love story Crowley and "Zev" deserve.
> 
> Other characters who are named or appear in this fic (and their human names in parentheses if applicable)  
\- Gabriel  
\- Dagon (Gogo)  
\- Michael  
\- Beelzebub (Bea)  
\- Ligur (Liggy)

_“And coming up after this next song: Fifteen Weird Gardening Tips That Really Work.”_

“This again?” Gabriel asked as he came traipsing through.

Zev looked up from the notebook he was busy scribbling in and over the tops of his little round spectacles. Probably another of his attempts at that novel he’d been working on since freshman year, Gabriel thought as he grabbed for it, snatching it out of Zev’s hands and shutting it.

“It’s soothing. And so is _that_, so if you could kindly—”

He stood and made an attempt at taking his notebook back, but Gabriel just switched it to the other hand and held it up higher.

“—give it back,” Zev said, trying to hide a smile.

“Come on, man, it’s New Year’s! Don’t you want to go out, just this once?” Gabriel asked, chuckling as he handed the book back to him.

“I’m fine here,” Zev shrugged. “I like staying in on nights like this.”

“Nights like this? I’ve never known you to go out on _any_ nights, dude,” said Gabriel. He walked over to the door and stepped into his shoes, then reached for his coat and shrugged that on. “Just once, huh? Just this once? I promise you, if you stick with me, I can try to make it worth your while.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Zev, settling back into the armchair he’d been nestled in so comfortably before his roommate had come in and disrupted his perfectly enjoyable evening.

Gabriel shook his head. “Or I can keep my distance, pretend I don’t even know you.”

“No, that’s—”

“Up to you,” said Gabriel. “Whatever.”

“I just…prefer this,” said Zev simply, gesturing vaguely to the quiet, warm room around him. “I like my books. I like the quiet.”

** _“Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me…”_ **

“That doesn’t sound very quiet to me,” Gabriel chuckled.

“Well, not that,” Zev conceded. “I don’t actually care for that so much, but I do like Anthony.”

“Oh?” Gabriel said, lighting up again. “_Antony?_” he said, taking on the other man’s accent and tone. “Really? The plant guy. Huh. Never would have thought.”

Zev’s face reddened and his eyes widened. “Oh, not like that!”

“Sure,” Gabriel said with a smirk.

“Really!”

“’Course,” Gabriel said, and headed again toward the door.

_“And that was ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ by Queen, which, of course, you probably knew. I don’t need to tell you that. Something you probably didn’t know, however, is that the piano on which ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ was originally recorded was the same piano Paul McCartney used during the recording of the beloved Beatles tune ‘Hey, Jude.’ Quite a lucky piano, if you ask me. Up next we’ve got…”_

“I must admit, he’s got a lovely voice,” Gabriel said, having paused with his hand on the doorknob as he listened in to the program.

“Shut up,” Zev muttered, flipping back to where he’d left off in his notebook.

“No, really. I’m not making fun. He’s got a nice voice. Sort of soothing. I get it. He’s funny, too, in a…you know, an awkward, cute kinda way.”

Zev didn’t respond, but picked up his writing where he’d left off.

“You should call him.”

“What?” Zev asked, his brow furrowed.

“You know, call in during his show. Lots of DJs or hosts or whatever they’re called in this part of the world, you know, they take calls.”

“Right,” he nodded, glancing fleetingly at his mobile phone on the table beside him.

“You should. Just, request a song or something.”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Alright,” Gabriel said with a small laugh. “See ya later then.”

“Alright.”

“Don’t wait up.”

“Hmm.”

As soon as the door shut, Zev closed his notebook, slowly, calmly. He set it aside and picked up his mobile. He wouldn’t call in immediately. Not that Gabriel had any way of knowing if he did, but something in him didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he took his advice the moment he left. Instead, he opened up the search engine and typed in, simply, _Queen songs_.

He knew Anthony had an affinity towards Queen, or was at least contractually obligated to play their music with some frequency. It seemed that at least three out of every five songs he played were theirs or something that had been inspired by them.

Zev had somehow not expected there to be nearly as much as there was. But luckily—or unfortunately; he hadn’t decided—with the release of a certain film and a slightly lesser known television series, certain songs were more popular than others. He could just pick one of them.

And that’s what he did.

Simple enough.

_“Hazel Solender of Ecophiles suggests using vinegar to both kill weeds and keep your plants beautiful.”_

After scrolling through the list over and over again, he finally settled on a fairly neutral sounding title.

_“If you’ve got a song request or some tips of your own, you can call in at 020 7946 0123, and I’ll be right with you after the break.”_

This was his chance. He picked up the cordless house phone from the arm of the sofa and dialed the number which, by now, he almost had memorized from hearing it recited so often.

_“Hello and thank you for calling. This is Gogo speaking. Can you hold for just a moment?”_

He was struck dead silent, absolutely dumb at the surprise of immediately getting an answer, even if it wasn’t who he’d expected.

“Yes,” he said, almost on autopilot.

_“Alrighty, dear. Thanks so much. Be back with you in just a mo.”_

Then there was the hold music, which lasted only a moment, just as she had said, then there was a brief moment of dead air, a quick intake of breath, and then—

_“You’re on with Anthony Crowley with Sage Rock. Hello.”_

“Er, hello.”

_“Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with on this fine New Year’s Eve night? Mister, erm…?”_

“Fell.”

_“Mr. Fell. Very formal.”_

“Er, Zev.”

_“Zev,”_ he said with a slight chuckle. _“How are you tonight?”_

“I’m doing quite well. How are you?” Zev asked, surprised at just how calm he felt.

_“I do believe you’re the first to ask me that back on here,”_ he said. _“I’m doing just fine. Any plans for bringing in the New Year?”_

“Not really. Just staying inside.”

_“Oh, that’s no fun. Wouldn’t you much rather be out in the streets with everyone else? At a party? In a pub somewhere?”_

“You sound like my roommate,” he said, laughing a little, absentmindedly switching the phone to his other ear.

_“I’m just teasing, Zev,”_ he said. _“Nothing wrong with a night in, especially tonight. London on New Year’s. Bound to be hell out there. I offer my condolences to anyone out there tonight for longer than they have to be.”_

Zev laughed, and Anthony laughed with him. It was odd, really. Quite natural, too. Or at least he hoped it was. Maybe he was imagining it.

_“No, sounds like you’re in the same boat as me. It’s just me tonight, and Gogo on the other side of the glass. Gonna be singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ by myself at midnight and drinking this entire bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling grape juice here in my little booth.”_

“Doesn’t sound too bad.”

_“It’s not, really,”_ he said, and there was a brief pause before he went on. _“Er, Gogo is pointing at her watch now, which means I’m gonna have to cut this short, sorry to say. But before we hang up, is there anything I can do for you? A song you’d like to hear?”_

“Oh, yes, er,” Zev hesitated, looking down at his mobile again. “How’s ‘I Want to Break Free’ sound to you?”

_“Ah. Marvelous choice, Mr. Fell,”_ Anthony said. Zev could have sworn he could hear the smile in his voice, and he wondered for a moment what it must have looked like. _“We’ll queue that right up for you, and thank you again for calling.”_

“Thank you.”

_“Alright, bye-bye now. Call us again any time.”_

“Alright.”

_“Hope you have a wonderful New Year.”_

“You as well.”

A small laugh, a muttered thanks, and then the line went dead, and over the radio behind him, Zev heard a song which he could only assume was the one he’d chosen starting up.

* * *

It was nearly four o’clock when Gabriel stumbled in, carrying his shoes and his coat in his hands, looking an absolute mess. Zev pretended not to notice as he uncrossed and recrossed his legs in the opposite direction, still writing in his little notebook.

“Oh, my God,” Gabriel slurred.

He slammed the door and walked past Zev to the radio in the corner and turned the volume up until the music was blaring.

** _“Just one year of love is better than a lifetime alone…”_ **

“This still,” he giggled, and came to sit, and then lie down, on the wooden coffee table. “Kinda nice, actually.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Sleep’s important, man. I’m sure your boyfriend will understand if you go to bed without him.”

He looked up at Zev, who now took his glasses off to look at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Hey, man, I know you have trouble sleeping at night. It’s fine. I have trouble…like, with letters. That’s not the same thing, though. Anyway.”

Zev cocked his head to the side, trying to make sense of what line of thought would have likened insomnia to dyslexia in Gabriel’s brain.

“You know, it’s weird that you wear those,” said Gabriel. “I mean, you look nice in them. Really. They’re cute. But like…” He paused to laugh, then went on: “I mean, you look nice in them, but you don’t need them. They’re, what’s that word?”

“What word?”

He snapped his fingers a few times before crying, “Cosmetic! That’s it. Like makeup.”

“Makeup?”

“Yeah. You know, this person I’ve been talking to. Saw ‘em tonight actually.”

“Good for you.”

“They don’t wear makeup. Or funny little round glasses.”

Zev raised an eyebrow at him.

Over the radio, the song ended, and the host’s voice returned, giving the name of the song and a brief introduction of the next one before the music started up again.

“That guy,” Gabriel said, pointing at the radio. “You ask him to marry you yet?”

“Don’t be silly.”

“That would be great. You marrying the plant guy. Could I be your best man?”

“You aren’t even my best roommate,” Zev said with a teasing smile.

“I’m your only roommate, you asshole,” Gabriel said, kicking his leg before sitting up as though it needed to be done in preparation.

“I don’t even know what he looks like.”

“That matter?”

“No, but—”

“You could google it. I think that’s what most people would do.”

“—but even then, I don’t know if he likes men.”

“You might learn that from googling him, too.”

“Maybe later,” Zev said, and started writing again.

“Alright. I’m going to bed.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Zevvy. See you in the…not morning. Don’t wake me till at least two.”

“You got it.”

Zev set his glasses on top of his notebook on the table beside his chair and shut his eyes, considering for a moment attempting sleep himself. He was exhausted, but he knew as soon as he actually laid down and shut off the lights, sleep would refuse to take him and he’d be left to toss and turn, only to fall asleep just before the ringing of the alarm which let him know it was time to go and open the shop downstairs.

_“Alright, this is Anthony Crowley signing off. Happy New Year to you all, and good morning. Hope it’s a good one. I’ll be back with you again tomorrow night, as always, but for now I’ll be turning it over to Michael and Liggy’s Folk Jam in the A.M. Ciao.”_

_You know_, Zev thought, _really couldn’t hurt to look him up_.

He was curious anyhow. What must he look like, this man with the interesting voice and the classic rock facts and the gardening tips? Could look like anyone.

Zev picked up his mobile and typed into the search engine, _Anthony Crowley radio host London_, and surprisingly found…next to nothing. A neat little webpage, done up in all gray and black and red, with information about his educational background, a brief description of his work history, a few personal interests like gardening and stargazing, a list of some of his favorite albums, and little to nothing else. No picture anywhere, either.

He went back to the results page and scrolled down to the next option, an Instagram page, and clicked on it, expecting maybe to see something of him there. Everything on it, though, was pictures of plants, the night sky, a view of the city at sunrise from some high-up window, and pictures of the ducks in St. James’s Park. The closest thing to an image of the man behind the voice was the toe of a neat, black snakeskin shoe in the corner of a picture of a group of ducklings.

Ah well, he decided, and got up to shut the radio off.


	2. April

_“We’re now entering the three o’clock hour, and things are winding down here at the station. Bea and Michael have left. It’s just me and Gogo over there on the other side of the glass, and Gogo’s yawning now, so soon enough, it’ll probably be just me. Gogo is now giving me a look as if to say, ‘Shut it, you bastard.’ Gogo, you know I love you!”_ He laughed. _“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I take it back! Up next we’ve got ‘Delilah’ by Queen.”_

“You want anything?” Gabriel called from the kitchen.

“I’m fine,” Zev said as he turned the page of the book he was reading.

“You sure?” Gabriel asked, appearing around the corner, a roll of Ritz crackers and a can of squeeze cheese in one hand and a Diet Coke in the other.

Zev looked up at him. “No, I think I’m good,” he said.

“’Kay,” Gabriel said, and then ducked back into the kitchen urgently as though he’d forgotten something, and returned a moment later with a Tupperware container of four-day-old chocolate chip cookies.

“Oh, lord…you’re not going to put the cheese on _those_, are you?”

Gabriel glanced down at the cookies, then the cheese. “No…”

“That’s disgusting,” Zev said, smiling and shaking his head as he returned his attention to his book.

“If you tried it, you might like it,” said Gabriel. “It’s not bad, really.”

“I’ll try that if you try sushi the next time I get some,” said Zev.

“I’m not going to eat raw fish. That’s disgusting.”

“And that’s how I feel about that.”

“Can’t be kosher,” said Gabriel, popping a cookie with a mountain of cheese on it into his mouth.

“And unbelievably, I think that might be.”

“It is,” said Gabriel. “I asked.”

Zev opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself, and looked back down at his book, not wanting to press the matter further.

_“If you’ve got a request, or if you just want to chat, call us at 020 7946 0123 and we’ll talk after the break.”_

“Hey, are you gonna—” Gabriel said, his mouth full, pointing at the radio on the bookshelf.

“If you promise to behave,” said Zev.

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” Gabriel chuckled.

“Well, try,” said Zev, and Gabriel gave him a thumbs-up.

He dialed the number and was greeted by Gogo: _“Mr. Fell!”_ she said brightly. _“He’ll be pleased to hear from you.”_

“How—”

_“Added you in the system last week. Your name showed up when you rang in.”_

“Oh,” he said.

She laughed. _“Just a mo, I’ll transfer you over.”_

She put him on hold.

“Put it on speaker,” Gabriel whispered across the room.

“You can hear on the radio,” said Zev, eyes wide and confused.

Gabriel made a face.

“Fine,” Zev sighed, defeated.

He turned the speaker on and set the phone down on the arm of his chair. Soft, tinny, elevator-music-like jazz played over the phone’s speaker, mixing strangely with the background music of the Whole Foods advert playing over the radio, until finally—

_“You’re on with Anthony Crowley of Sage Rock. Who’s this?”_

Zev snatched up the phone, shut off the speaker, and put the phone up to his ear. “Zev.”

“Ruuude,” Gabriel mouthed at him, and Zev shot him a smug little grin.

_“Ah!”_ Anthony said cheerily. _“How’ve ya been?”_

“Alright. And you?”

_“Alright,”_ said Anthony. _“What’re you in the mood for tonight, Zev?”_

“Er,” Zev hesitated, trying to think of the name of a song, his mind drawing a blank. “Maybe I’ll let you pick.”

_“Hmm,”_ Anthony hummed thoughtfully. _“I guess I can do that. But you can’t get away that easy,”_ he said, his tone almost playful.

“What?”

_“I want you to tell me your top…er…_five_ favorite musicians. Just so I know for, you know, future reference. Top five, or just…any five you like.”_

“Oh, er…” Zev said, “well, probably Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald…Mozart.”

_“Uh-huh…There’s three.”_

There was a light sound like the scratch of a pen on paper.

“Elvis?”

Anthony laughed._ “Are you asking me if you like Elvis?”_

“No, I mean he’s number four, I guess,” Zev said.

_“Alright.”_

“And I guess,” Zev hesitated, laughing a bit, “I guess the Beatles.”

_“Alright!”_ Anthony said. _“So we’ve got…Billie, Ella, Mr. Amadeus himself, wonderful man he was, the King, and…the Fab Four. Interesting mix.”_

“Old mix.” In truth, Zev didn’t like much past about 1967, but this later stuff was admittedly beginning to grow on him.

_“Ehhh,”_ Anthony said, _“some more than others. Not a bad mix, though.”_

“Kind of you to say.”

_“Makes me wonder what you’re doing listening to this show, though,”_ he teased.

“I don’t sleep well at night. This is soothing, in a way.”

_“Kind of you to say,”_ Anthony said, a hint of a smile playing at the edges of his voice. Zev marveled at the beauty of it, and wondered again what it must have looked like, that smile. _“I think I know something you might like. Here you are."_

Zev heard the start of a song on the radio behind him, fast and upbeat and reminiscent of something at least a couple decades older than Zev knew it must have been, and then quietly, and in a quick whisper, Anthony saying to him over the phone, off the air, _“Okay, now I don’t normally do this, but I’m gonna transfer you back to Gogo.”_

“Okay…” Zev said slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion.

He glanced to his left to see Gabriel next to the chair, leaning close in an attempt to hear what was being said. Zev leaned away.

_“Okay? And,”_ Anthony said, clearing his throat, _“er, she’s going to give you my personal number. I’ve already talked to her about this, so she’s aware this is what I’m doing.”_

“Oh,” said Zev quietly, his mouth suddenly dry and his pulse elevated.

_“Unless you don’t want it,”_ he added quickly.

“Oh, yeah, no, sure,” Zev said, trying and failing to sound cool and casual.

_Please_, he found himself thinking, and almost laughed.

Beside him, Gabriel’s face lit up with a wide smile. He pumped his fist in victory and reached out to slap Zev on the shoulder, but Zev pulled away before Gabriel’s hand made contact.

_“Alright,”_ Anthony said with a soft chuckle, for the first time sounding almost…nervous, Zev realized. _“And I’d like for you to, er, call or…or text, or whatever it is you prefer…sometime. If you’d like.”_

“Absolutely,” Zev said evenly despite the pounding in his head and his chest. “I’ll, erm, I’ll do that. Thanks.”

_“Cool,”_ said Anthony. There was a brief pause and then, _“So, er, I’ll let you go then, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”_

“Sure thing. I’ll call you.”

“Yes!” Gabriel hissed excitedly, and Zev’s eyes widened.

Anthony laughed again, and Zev wondered if he had heard Gabriel.

_“Alright, talk to you later then,”_ he said.

“Tomorrow?”

_“Yeah. I usually wake up at three.”_

“In the afternoon?” he asked, and then realized that was probably a stupid question. Of course he meant three in the afternoon. Three in the morning, he was in the studio.

_“Yes.”_

“Okay,” Zev said. “I’ll call you around four then?”

_“Sounds great. Bye then.”_

“Bye,” Zev said.

His face felt warm, and he couldn’t stop smiling. He was vaguely aware of Gabriel jumping like a child beside him.

_“Transferring you to Gogo now then.”_

“Okay.”

_“Bye.”_

“Bye,” Zev said, and glanced over to Gabriel, giving him a look of pleasant surprise.

_“Gogo speaking,”_ said the woman’s voice before the hold music even fully got started. _“Is this Mr. Fell?”_

“It is.”

_“Alright, Mr. Crowley’s phone number is…”_

Zev grabbed his notebook from the table beside him and quickly wrote it on the inside cover as legibly as he could manage as she read off the numbers.

“Thank you,” he said.

_“No problem, Mr. Fell,”_ she said. _“He likes you, and you seem nice.”_

“Oh, well, er, thank you,” he said.

_“My pleasure,”_ she said. _“Be hearing from you again soon?”_

“Possibly.”

She laughed. _“Alright, take care.”_

“You as well.”

_“Thanks.”_

The call ended, and he set the phone down.

“Go, Zevvy!” Gabriel cried. “You got the plant guy’s number!”

He pretended to lay a series of playful punches on Zev’s shoulder as he laughed triumphantly, as though this were some shared accomplishment.

“Anthony,” Zev said.

“_Antony_, right,” Gabriel said, still smiling. “Right. No, I am just…so excited for you, man. That’s—that’s cool.”

“I think so, too,” Zev said, giggling. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

“Well, it did. Because I just heard it,” Gabriel said. “It’s official. You’re gonna marry the plant guy, and I’m gonna be your best man, even if I’m not your best roommate. I’m calling it now.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Zev.

“Alright,” said Gabriel, raising his hands in surrender as he plopped down onto the sofa. “But when I give my best man speech, I’ll be sure to talk about this moment.”

“You do that then,” said Zev, and he picked up his mobile to add the number to his contacts.

* * *

The last customer meandered out of the front door to A.Z. Fell & Co., and Zev rushed to lock the door behind them, not caring that he did so before they had even made it off the pavement and into their car. He pulled his mobile out of his trouser pocket and looked at the screen as he headed toward the stairs.

3:55.

Almost time.

His heart was beating out of his chest. It almost didn’t feel real, that he was actually about to speak to Anthony, off the air, with no one listening in. That is, if Gabriel kept to his room and didn’t listen in with his ear to the door. He couldn’t quite place the feeling, though, the turning of his stomach, the excitement flooding his brain, the smile that just wouldn’t go away. It wasn’t the same as it had been in the beginning. It wasn’t just the thrill of getting to speak to some low-tier local celebrity on the telephone anymore. It was closer to the feeling he had in primary school when his mum let him talk to that one certain friend from sleepaway camp on the phone for the first time, or the time he stayed up much too late when he was sixteen to talk to the boy from his history class after his mum had gone to bed, thinking he was already asleep. But it seemed almost more than that, too.

“Hey, Zevvy,” Gabriel said in a sing-songy kind of voice, smiling slyly at him from the sofa when Zev entered the living room.

“Hi,” said Zev.

He closed the door behind himself and headed toward his bedroom.

“You’re gonna call the plant guy now, right?”

“Yes.”

“Cool,” Gabriel said.

Zev looked at him blankly for a moment.

“Have fun,” said Gabriel.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m just gonna sit right here,” said Gabriel, sounding suspiciously like he was _not_ just going to sit right there.

“Alright.”

Gabriel nodded, smiling strangely at him as he made his way back to his bedroom.

“Have fun!” he called after him. “I’m just going to sit here and play, uhh, Candy Crush or…something. Angry Birds. Words With Friends. Zootopia. Something.”

“Thanks,” said Zev, laughing to himself as he shut the door behind himself.

He listened briefly to see if he could hear Gabriel come towards the door, but hearing only silence, made his way over to his desk and sat down.

He dialed the number, and after only two rings, heard—

_“Hullo?”_

“Hi.”

_“Zev!”_

“Yes,” Zev said, smiling again.

_“I wasn’t sure you were going to call.”_

“Why wouldn’t I?”

_“I dunno. But I’m glad you did.”_

“Me, too.”

_“So what have you been up to today?”_

“I was at work until just a few minutes ago, actually.”

_“Oh?”_ Anthony asked. _“What is it you do?”_

“I own a bookshop,” said Zev.

_“My,” _said Anthony, sounding quite impressed. _“I wouldn’t have guessed.”_

“No?”

_“It’s just, you seem sort of young, I guess. Cool. I always imagine bookshop owners to be like librarians. Little old ladies with their hair in buns who glare at you over the tops of their bifocals and such.”_

“How do you know that’s not me?” Zev asked, earning a laugh.

_“That’s true. I don’t know what you look like. I shouldn’t go making assumptions. So where’s your bookshop then? Maybe I know it.”_

“It’s in Soho,” said Zev.

_“Oh,”_ Anthony said, his tone changing, his voice lowering slightly in a very knowing sort of way which made Zev’s face go warm. _“Reeeally?”_

“Oh, no, it’s not like that,” Zev chuckled nervously.

_“Hm,”_ he intoned. _“You know, the only bookshop I know of it Soho is that one on Brewer that has the very interesting collection in the basement.”_

“That’s not me.”

_“Ha,”_ Anthony said, a sort-of laugh. _“What’s your specialty then?”_

“Rare books, antiques, that sort of thing,” said Zev.

_“And you opened shop in Soho?”_

“Yes,” Zev laughed.

_“What kind of business do you get?”_

“Not the best, to be honest.”

_“And that doesn’t bother you?”_

“Not in the slightest.”

_“Strange, Mr. Fell, very strange,”_ he said slowly, and Zev heard that smile again in his voice, prompting one of his own.

“It’s more a place to keep the books than a real shop. Though I do make sales from time to time, just enough to keep her open for business.”

_“Rare books and all, you make your own prices I presume? You can charge an arm and a leg if the circumstance calls for it?”_

“Precisely.”

_“Dirty business, it sounds like.”_

“That’s why it’s in Soho.”

Anthony laughed. _“That’s a good one.”_

“I’ve actually been waiting for someone to say that so I could make that joke,” Zev said, laughing with him.

_“Well I’m honored it’s me that got to hear it first,”_ said Anthony.

There was a slight pause, then Zev said, quietly, “Kind of you to say.”

_“I mean it.”_

A beat.

“What do you do when you’re not on the radio?” Zev asked, breaking the silence.

“_Well, pretty much the same thing every day. I’m kind of boring. I come home and I sleep. I wake up around three or four, have some coffee or tea or what have you—that’s what I’m doing right now. Er…sometimes I’ll go for a walk around St. James’s Park, or I’ll go out on my balcony and watch the sunset before dinner.”_

“That sounds lovely.”

_“Yeah…it is. Sometimes I’ll have a glass of wine or champagne at that time as well. That’s a secret. Not supposed to drink before work, but I usually do it early enough any effect’s worn off before I leave out.”_

“Drinking before work,” Zev said in mock disappointment. “Tsk. And I thought better of you.”

Anthony laughed. _“Well, can’t be doing it in the morning, even if it is my evening. But,”_ he said, _“can’t go on the air with any kind of buzz. Always leads to some kind of disaster.”_

“Sounds like you know from experience,” said Zev.

_“No, but we did have a man who used to come in stoned a lot. Sometimes drunk and stoned. People started complaining. He was off the air quick. He was saying all kinds of ridiculous things, being rude to people, just no good.”_

“Goodness.”

_“Yeah,”_ said Anthony slowly. _“Anyway, just one glass, and a partial glass at that, about five hours before the show’s what I do, maybe once every two weeks or so. I don’t think there’s much harm in that.”_

“I wouldn’t think so.”

_“I like stargazing,”_ Anthony said abruptly, his tone changed, saddened almost.

Zev didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure of the proper response, and anyhow, he wasn’t sure if Anthony really wanted a response, or if he even meant to say it. It sounded almost like something from deep within him, something he didn’t exactly mean to say.

_“I really love looking up at the stars at night, and…and seeing how vast and how wonderful it all is. I don’t get to do that much. Sunrise and sunset are magnificent from my flat. Absolutely gorgeous. But I can never see the stars.”_

“No?” Zev said quietly.

Anthony let out a small, sad little laugh. _“No. And I’m sorry to have thrown that out there like that, to…to ramble.”_

“No,” said Zev. “That’s alright. I get it.”

He did, really. He loved to look at the stars, too, but the brightness of the city lights were quite a dampener on that. You could hardly ever get a good view of the stars for all the lights.

_“I like the ducks, too,”_ Anthony said, brightening. _“The ducks at the park. They’re lovely. And in the spring, when they’ve had their babies and they’re all running around. I like to talk to them and take pictures of them.”_

Zev smiled. “Ha. That’s cute.”

_“There was a hatch about a week ago now, and you can hear the babies from near the pond. Cutest damn thing you’ve ever heard. Can’t wait till they come out and I get to see them.”_

“That’ll be nice,” Zev said. “Ducklings are wonderful.”

_“And I like you,”_ Anthony said. He cleared his throat. _“If…if it’s not too early for me to say that. If it’s not too weird. We’ve been talking, what, going on four months now? I don’t know if it’s okay for me to say it.”_

“No, I don’t think it’s too early, or weird or anything,” Zev said. “I…I like you, too.”

_“Huh,”_ Anthony said. There was that smile again, just at the back of his voice. Zev beamed. _“Well. Kind of you to say.”_

“I mean it.”

_“That’s…wow.”_

“Yes,” Zev laughed, and Anthony laughed with him.

_“Alright, then. Enough about me. What do you like to do when you’re not working in your Soho bookshop or calling into the station?”_

“Well, I go to book dealers’ exhibitions, and I go to sales,” said Zev.

_“Not for work. What do you do for fun?”_

“I…I like museums. I like going to museums,” he said.

_“Like art, or history, or science?”_

“Art. And history. And I suppose science, too. I just love museums. They’re quiet and they’re neat and just…lovely.”

_“I like them, too,”_ said Anthony.

“I like music.”

_“Old music,”_ Anthony jabbed, laughing.

“Oh, says the man who listens to Queen,” Zev chuckled.

_“I think Mozart’s just a bit older.”_

“Okay, fine. Yes, old music. Some newer stuff, too.” He sighed, thinking, and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankles in front of him. “And I’m-I’m writing a book.”

_“A book,”_ said Anthony, curious.

“Yes.”

_“What about?”_

“I’m not sure,” said Zev. “I’ve been writing it for, oh, probably fifteen years now. Can’t seem to get hold of the story, though.”

_“Got any characters worked out? The setting? Any of that?”_

“To be completely honest, not really. They escape me, some of them. Sometimes I think I’ve got the idea, but I always lose it.”

_“Well. Best of luck on catching hold of them all.”_

“Thank you,” said Zev, smiling again as he glanced out the window of his second floor bedroom.

In the streets below, the after-work traffic was just starting to pick up. People were bustling about, cars were rushing up and down the road, but inside that room, there was the gentlest sense of calm Zev had known in quite some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't include any lyrics this time around, but the song Anthony chose for Zev is "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" by Queen, which was written as a tribute to Elvis Presley, whose music Zev claims to enjoy. Also, ya know, this song is ~fairly telling~ about the feelings Anthony has developed for Zev after speaking with him on the air for 3-4 months.
> 
> Also, the gross thing Gabriel does with the canned cheese and the chocolate chip cookies is something that my uncle used to do. It always sicked everyone out, but he swore it was delicious. I've never tried it, but I think my mom has.


	3. June, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains a smutty scene in which two characters engage in phone sex.

_“Thanks for talking to me on the way home,”_ Anthony said, keeping his voice low as he made his way through the block to his flat. There was the sound of a key turning and a door opening, then clicking shut again. _“You know, for keeping me awake.”_

“No problem,” Zev said, looking in the mirror as he tied his bowtie. “Thank you for talking to me while I got ready for work. Helped me wake up quicker, being able to talk to someone.”

_“How did you sleep, by the way?”_ Anthony asked. _“I know you don’t sleep well some nights.”_

“I actually slept pretty well,” said Zev.

_“Good.”_ Anthony yawned. _“I’m glad to hear. Missed you last night, though.”_

“You could have called me,” Zev jested. “Bet that would have thrown people for a loop.”

_“Oh, yeah,”_ Anthony said with a small laugh. _"'And now, instead of taking calls, I’m going to put one out to Zev because I miss him but he’s not going to call because he’s sleeping, so I’m going to wake him up.'”_

“I would have answered,” said Zev.

_“I know, and that’s why I didn’t do it,”_ said Anthony, that mysterious little smile playing with the sound of his voice again.

“I’ll call tonight, how’s that?”

_“If you’re going to be awake, I’d love to hear from you. If not, we can do this again tomorrow morning.”_

“Alright.”

Anthony yawned again, louder than before. _“Alright, now I’m going to go to sleep and you’re going to go open your neat little Soho bookshop, and I’ll text you when I wake up.”_

“That works for me,” said Zev.

_“Alright, then,”_ said Anthony. _“Good morning.”_

“Good _night_.”

_“Hmm…yeah. Bye, Zev.”_

The call ended, and Zev chuckled to himself as he stood and tucked his mobile into his right trouser pocket. Opening the door to his bedroom, he was greeted by a scene he was definitely not expecting.

In the kitchen, just visible past the sitting room, Gabriel was standing in his boxers and a t-shirt at the counter, a pair of legs wrapped around his waist and a pair of arms around his neck. His hands were on the legs, stroking them gently as he kissed their owner.

“Morning,” Zev said, making Gabriel jump backwards and the person on the counter hop down to their feet.

They stood nearly a foot shorter than Gabriel and wore a somewhat similar sort of outfit. Their short black hair was a complete mess, and Zev tried not to think too hard about whether that was due to sleep or something else.

“Oh, sorry, Zevvy, thought you were still in bed,” Gabriel said, turning around quickly.

“I’ve gotta go open the shop,” Zev said, glancing between Gabriel and his friend.

“Oh, uh, this is Bea,” Gabriel said, nodding towards them where they now stood leaning against the counter. “We’ve been seeing each other since Christmastime. You remember.”

Zev nodded. “Ah, yes.”

Bea smiled awkwardly and gave a small wave. “Hi. Sorry about that.”

“No worries,” said Zev, going over to the cabinet and getting down a mug.

“Gabe assured me you wouldn’t come out. I really am sorry.”

“Your voice sounds familiar,” Zev said, distracted.

“Oh, you may have heard me on the radio. I do an afternoon show.”

Zev looked to Gabriel, who smiled smugly.

“That is so interesting,” said Zev, genuinely.

“Zev’s in love with the plant guy,” said Gabriel proudly.

“Plant g—oh! You mean Anthony!” they cried.

“Yeah, _Antony_,” said Gabriel, nodding. “They’ve been talking since New Year’s.”

“Yes, _Zev_. I think I’ve heard that name around the studio. He really fancies you,” they said matter-of-factly.

Zev felt his face getting warm. “Oh, well, erm…”

“They’ve been talking for six months but they still haven’t met, isn’t that _wild_? Antony did call him his boyfriend the other night, though. I heard that bit. He doesn’t let me listen in but sometimes I hear things.”

“Oh, he’s great,” Bea said. “A bit annoying, but I’m probably not the best to ask, cousins and all. Been together since birth, practically. Anyway, he’s lovely, and he adores you, Zev.”

Zev’s eyes went wide, unsure of how to respond. He picked up his mug and poured some coffee from the pot that Gabriel already had made.

“Gabe, it’s not our business,” said Bea, noticing Zev’s discomfort. “We’re probably being a bit rude butting in like that.”

“Sorry,” Gabriel said. “But isn’t that reassuring?”

“Quite,” said Zev, and took a sip of his coffee.

* * *

Zev was sitting at the front desk mindlessly looking at a crossword puzzle he’d been working on all day. It was getting close to closing, but no one had been by in hours, and he was starting to nod off when his mobile chimed. The screen lit up and when he looked, he saw that it was a text from Anthony.

**A: hey**

He wrote back:

**Z: Hi**

And got a near immediate response:

**A: What are you doing?**

**Z: At work, about to close up. What are you doing?  
A: Just woke up. Still lying in bed. Not ready to get up. Lol.**

**Z: I know how that is.**

**A: Wish you were here… ;)**

Zev nearly dropped his phone at that.

_The mere implications of that...why didn’t he just come out and say it directly? Good Lord..._

They had agreed to meet at some point, and he certainly had feelings for him that he was now able to freely admit, but he hardly expected their first meeting to be the result of something like _this_.

**Z: Oh?**

**A: I’ve got a couple hours before I’ve got to go to work. I could text you my address.**

_Oh, my God, Zev, this is not how we’re supposed to do things_, he thought, and sent back another text.

**Z: Why don’t you?**

**A: Hmm…probably shouldn’t.**

He let out a sigh of relief, but he had to admit he was a little…disappointed. Almost.

**Z: No?**

**A: Then I’d definitely not want to leave the bed.**

His stomach, which had been churning since that first text came in, did a full-on flip.

_He actually wants me. Holy shit._

**Z: Alright, maybe another time then**

**A: Sounds good to me.**

**A: I’d love to hear your voice though. Can you call when you get home?**

**Z: Closing up now. Talk in just a few.**

Business was slow anyhow, Zev decided as he flipped the sign on the front door of the shop. He hadn’t seen a customer in a few hours, and he didn’t expect to see many more for the rest of the day since the majority of his customers tended to be graduate students in search of hard-to-find sources for their research, and it was nearing the point in the semester where last minute book-seekers were few and far between. So, he locked the door and flicked the lights off, and headed up the stairs to the flat.

On the coffee table, he found a note which read: _Out with B. Be back late. Don’t wait up. ;D_

Convenient, he thought, and pulled out his phone again and pressed the little “call” icon next to Anthony’s name.

_“Hi,”_ Anthony said when he answered a moment later, his voice still full of sleep.

It sounded…_intoxicating_, Zev thought, clearing his throat in hopes that that would clear his head, too.

“Hi.”

He hummed softly. _“What are you doing?”_

“Just got in,” Zev said. “You?”

_“Still in bed. Are you alone?”_

“Yes.” He shut and locked the door to his bedroom just on the off-chance Gabriel forgot something and came back to find him in any kind of compromising situation. “Why?”

_“Do you want to, erm,”_ he hesitated with a small, nervous laugh, _“do you want to do a little dirty talking? You can absolutely say no.”_

“Like phone sex?”

_“You can say no if you don’t want to, but yes, like phone sex,”_ Anthony said with a quiet sort of giggle.

Zev’s breath caught in his throat. “Er, yeah, sure. Absolutely.”

_“Okay,”_ Anthony said with a soft groan of preparation. There was a sound like the rustling of fabric.

_Silk_, Zev thought, and then pushed the thought from his mind. Of course it wasn’t.

“Okay.”

_“Do you know…sometimes I touch myself just thinking about your voice?”_

“Oh,” Zev said, trying to find the right response while also fighting to keep his breathing even. He settled on the edge of the bed and slowly started loosening his tie. “I must admit I’ve done the same a time or two.”

Anthony sighed audibly. _“You have no idea how hard I am right now.”_

“Are you touching yourself right now?” Zev asked as he kicked his shoes off and unfastened the front of his trousers.

_“I might be,”_ he said with a small laugh which turned quickly to a soft moan. _“I’m starting to wish I had given you my address.”_

“You still could,” Zev said. He kicked his trousers off and slipped a hand under the waistband of his boxers, taking his cock in his hand and stroking it slowly. “_Hmm_…”

_“I wish I could kiss you,”_ Anthony said breathlessly. _“_Everywhere_.”_

Zev’s breathing quickened. “Is that right?” He continued stroking his cock, listening to Anthony’s ragged breathing. With his free hand, he finished taking his tie off and started on the buttons on his shirt.

_“Oh, yes,”_ he said. _“I’d love to just take my time, giving every piece of you proper attention, getting to know every part of your body, making you feel good.”_

Zev found his hand moving unintentionally faster, and he slowed it down again. Shrugging his open shirt off, he moved to the center of the bed and got under the covers. On the other line, he heard Anthony moan softly, almost a whimper.

_“Fuck,”_ Anthony sighed.

Zev’s grip on his cock tightened and he pumped his hand faster as he heard the moans on the other line becoming more frequent.

“Are you about to finish?” he asked.

_“No, I could probably go a little while longer. I was just thinking…about your hands…in my hair…on my body…gently caressing me as we make love.”_

Zev’s eyes fell shut and he dug his head back into the pillow. “What’s your hair like?”

_“Long. Shoulder length. Red.”_

“Nice for burying my hands in then,” Zev said, and he heard a soft grunt in response. “For…gripping onto, pulling…”

_“That sounds great to me,”_ he said_. “_God_. If you were here it would take everything in me not to…_oh, fuck_.”_

“Is that not what we’re doing right now?” Zev breathed.

Anthony laughed quietly.

_“Mm…I suppose.”_ He sighed. _“_Ohh_.”_

“I love the way you sound right now,” Zev said, and he kicked his boxers off impatiently. They were beginning to get in the way.

_“Yeah?”_

“Absolutely gorgeous,” he said. Zev rubbed his nipple in time with the hand on his cock and let out a soft moan of his own. “I love how vocal you are. I’d love to…to hear you like this in person, feel your breath on my skin.”

_“Still not too late for me to send you my address, right?” _Anthony chuckled shakily. _“Fuck.”_

Zev laughed. “Kind of busy at the moment.”

_“Me, too.”_

He ran his thumb over the tip of his cock as he stroked himself, spreading the precum which was leaking from him around, and he let out a moan, a little louder than expected. It felt good, so he did it again, his breathing coming hard and fast now.

_“What are you thinking about?”_ Anthony asked.

“At the moment?”

_“Yeah.”_

“Your mouth around my cock. Burying my hands in your hair as you suck me off.”

_“_Ah_,”_ Anthony moaned.

“You, moaning around my cock, touching yourself…”

There was a brief silence, and then, _“Oh, God. I think I’m almost there.”_

Zev bit his lip and his eyes squeezed tighter shut. “Should we try to time them?”

_“No, never works. Just…keep talking. _Please_.”_

“‘Please.’ I like that,” Zev whispered.

_“Please,”_ Anthony groaned again, the laughter under his breath becoming a series of soft grunts, then whimpers.

“You sound so perfect,” Zev sighed.

_“Hmm…oh, _God_,”_ he said, his voice high and strained.

“That’s it,” Zev said, his hand moving even faster. He was almost there now, too.

_“Yes. Oh. Fuck.”_

He cried out then, and on hearing the sound, Zev fell over the edge, his hips rising as he came hard, spilling over into his hand and on his stomach and the sheets.

“_Ohh_,” he moaned softly as he came back down.

_“Jesus,”_ Anthony sighed, his breathing still hard but starting to slow down.

Zev laid there in silence, listening to the other man’s breathing as his own slowed to normal. He blinked a few times, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn’t felt quite so good in quite a long time.

_“You still there?”_ Anthony asked after a moment, his voice a bit hoarse.

“Yes,” Zev said, and he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he reached for the box of tissues on his bedside table.

_“I take it you came,”_ Anthony said.

“Yes, just after you did, I think,” Zev said, smiling as he pulled back the sheets and started to clean himself.

_“Was I that obvious?”_ he said with a small sort of giggle.

“You were something,” Zev said.

_“Hm,”_ Anthony intoned. _“How was it, though, really? Wasn’t too awkward?”_

“No,” Zev said, tossing the soiled tissues into the rubbish bin beside his bed. “Was it for you?”

_“No. I was worried it would be, though. I’ve never done anything like that.”_

“Oh,” Zev said, a bit surprised but admittedly not unpleasantly so.

He threw the soiled flat sheet to the floor and pulled the duvet up modestly as he settled back into the bed.

_“Had you?”_

“No, but I guess I assumed you had.”

_“What do you mean?”_

“I just mean I thought maybe I wasn’t the first person you’d met on the show and…well, done this with.”

_“No, I’m…I’m a very private person,”_ Anthony said softly.

“What made me different? If you don’t mind my asking.”

_“I dunno. You seemed the same, very private. You’re funny. You request songs that are quite flattering from my perspective, but something tells me you also pick them rather casually, with no real motive. I dunno. Something just…clicked. I know that’s cliché. But I felt that there was some kind of…immediate connection.”_

There was a long silence. Zev was smiling, listening as this man he had never met said these things, these lovely things, which he could have never dreamed of anyone saying to him, in person or otherwise.

_“Well,”_ Anthony said after a moment, laughing quietly, anxiously, _“say something. I’ve not put you to sleep, have I?”_

“I’m glad it’s not just me,” Zev whispered, laughing too.

_“What?”_

“I’m glad it’s not just me that feels that way. What you just said. All of it.” He shut his eyes. “I thought I was being ridiculous.”

_“No.”_

“I thought, ‘You know, he probably does this to loads of people.’ Glad to hear I was wrong,” said Zev.

_“I feel I should be flattered,”_ Anthony chuckled. _“I didn’t sound like a complete idiot a few minutes ago when we…”_

“No,” said Zev, smiling again.

_“And you’re still going to want to talk to me after this?”_

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

_“I dunno.”_

Zev cleared his throat and opened his eyes again, looking over at the clock on his bedside table. It was nearing six o’clock.

_“I know I should have asked this before,”_ Anthony said in a slightly different tone, pausing.

Zev raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

_“But would you like to have dinner sometime?”_

Zev laughed, and Anthony laughed with him.

“Yes, I think I quite would,” Zev said.

_“In all seriousness, I would like to meet. I know we’ve been talking about it, and we’ve never gotten around to it, but I really would like to see you in person, get to know you that way, too.”_

“I agree,” Zev said, turning onto his side. “I love talking to you on the telephone, but meeting would be marvelous as well.”

_“You always talk like that,”_ Anthony said sleepily.

“Like what?”

_“So…proper. It’s cute.”_

Zev smiled, amused. “Kind of you to say.”

There was a long silence, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. And then—

_“I love you.”_ So sure, so confident.

Another pause, shorter this time. Then, more frantic—

_“I-I mean. I shouldn’t have picked now to say that actually. That was…I’m sorry. You don’t have to say anyth—”_

“I love you, too,” Zev said, cutting him off.

_“Holy shit,”_ Anthony said, seemingly without even thinking. _“Sorry, er. Did I hear that right?”_

“I think you did.”

_“Holy shit, that’s…wow.”_

Zev laughed quietly. “Yeah. Erm…tomorrow’s Sunday. I have the afternoon off, and you won't be working. What would you say to meeting tomorrow for dinner?”

_“Alright,”_ Anthony said, trying to sound cool and calm again. _“Seven o’clock sound good?”_

“Alright,” Zev said. His heartrate was up again, and that smile was back, the uncontrollable one which accompanied that feeling of pure and utter elation so strong he felt he might burst. “Where were you thinking?”

_“What would you be in the mood for?”_

“Oh, er, I dunno. There’s a very nice little diner in your part of town, I think,” Zev said, “if you’re into that sort of thing.”

_“Sure, that sounds nice. It’s a date then.”_

“A date,” Zev repeated in a tone he hoped sounded agreeing rather than absolutely mad and giddy, which is how he felt.

_“Well great then! I’m excited!”_ he said brightly.

“Me, too.”

_“Oh,”_ Anthony groaned with an effort which sounded like he must have been getting up. _“I’ve got to start getting ready for work. Will we be hearing from you tonight?”_

“If you’d like,” Zev said, his tone almost teasing.

_“Oh, I think I definitely would like,”_ said Anthony.

“Alright then. Around the usual time?”

_“Works for me. Talk to you then.”_

“Alright.”

_“Bye, then,”_ said Anthony.

“Bye-bye.”

_“Can I say it again?”_

Zev was confused at first, but then he realized. “Yes,” he almost whispered.

_“I love you.”_

“I love you.”

_“I am never going to get used to that.”_

“Hm,” Zev intoned. “Me either.”

_“Alright, I better go.”_

“Okay, talk to you later.”

_“Later.”_

The call ended, and Zev sat up. He threw the duvet back and started gathering his clothes and the soiled sheet, and he threw them into the hamper before getting dressed again to take them out to the washing machine.

In the sitting room, he found Gabriel, sipping a cup of coffee and looking at a magazine which had something to do with new car models.

“Evening,” Gabriel said without looking up.

“Oh,” said Zev, surprised. “Evening.” He made his way round the corner to the laundry door. “Er, how long have you been there?”

“Oh, just a few minutes,” he said, “but I did hear—”

“Oh, God,” Zev murmured.

“You’ve got a date.”

“I have,” Zev said, relieved, but not completely. He had no way of knowing if that was where Gabriel came in, or if that was where he was simply saying he came in for comfort’s sake.

“You were talking really quiet, but I heard that. You said something about a date. Tomorrow?”

“Yes.” He started to load the washing machine.

“That’s awesome,” Gabriel said, chuckling quietly under his breath. “I’m so excited for you, man.”


	4. June, Part II

Business was slow. Only one customer had been in all day at A.Z. Fell & Co., and she was still here. A lovely young American thing, dressed as though from another time. She was very polite, although a little eccentric, but Zev found her quite charming. She’d given him a business card for some kind of magazine, _Antiquarian_…something. He’d thanked her and tucked it away in his pocket with a promise to look them up later, and offered to let her look around as long as she liked.

Shortly after she’d arrived—which was going on two hours ago now—his phone had rung. Anthony. And they were still on the phone now as this young woman crossed the aisle from the left half of the shop to the right, nodding to him politely as she went. He nodded back.

“Is she really called Gogo?” he asked Anthony, who had mentioned something his coworker had said that morning before leaving the studio.

_“What?”_ Anthony asked, amused.

“Is that really her name?” he rephrased.

_“Well, it’s what she’s gone by as long as I’ve known her, but no. It’s short for something, can’t remember what right now. Anyway, she liked that play by that Beckett fellow where he’s got the two guys just doing nothing, waiting. That was one of their names.”_

“Interesting,” Zev said, scratching a shapeless, scribbled blob into the corner of his notebook. “What about you? Is your name really Anthony? Or is that some kind of stage name?”

_“No, that’s really my name,”_ Anthony chuckled. _“Are you really Zev, since we’re asking about names?”_

“I’m Aaron, actually,” Zev said.

_“What?”_ Anthony said, almost flatly, disbelieving, Zev thought with a small laugh.

“Yes. Zev is my middle name.”

_“And you go by Zev, or Aaron?”_

“I go by Zev. My father goes by Aaron.”

_“You’re named after your father.”_

“I am.”

Zev looked across the room at a display of Dickens novels on a table near the door which had been up since the holidays. He hadn’t remembered to change them out for something more summery, not that anyone else had noticed or cared. He cleared his throat and looked down again at the paper in front of him.

_“Hmm,”_ Anthony intoned thoughtfully. _“What’s he like?”_

“I don’t know.”

There was a brief pause and then—

_“Okay.”_ No judgement, nothing harsh. Just acceptance. Zev liked that.

He nodded, though he knew Anthony couldn’t see him.

_“I’m named after some bloke from a play,”_ Anthony said.

“‘Some bloke from a play’?” Zev asked, smiling.

_“Yeah, _Antony and_…somebody,”_ he said, his tone jesting.

Zev laughed. “_Antony and Somebody_. That’s my favorite by William Whatsisname.”

_“Mine, too,”_ Anthony chuckled. _“Mostly because I like hearing my name uttered over and over for three hours.”_

Zev busted out laughing, and the young woman who had been browsing the shelves a few meters away from him jumped, nearly dropping the book in her hand.

“Sorry,” he said softly, genuinely so.

“You’re alright, hon,” she said, smiling at him.

_“What’s that?”_ Anthony asked.

“Scaring the customers.”

_“Whoops,”_ Anthony said. _“Should I let you go then?”_

“Probably best.”

_“Alright. Still on for this afternoon then?”_

“Absolutely.”

_“Good. Can’t wait.”_

“Me either.”

_“Alright, I’ll let you go then.”_

“Alright.”

_“No more scaring the customers,”_ Anthony teased.

“Oh, but it’s _so_ fun,” Zev said, watching the woman round the corner to the next aisle.

_“Be nice.”_

“I’ll try.”

_“I’m gonna say it again, okay?”_ Anthony asked, his voice almost a whisper.

Zev smiled, and said back just as quietly, “Okay.”

_“I love you.”_

“I love you, too.” His heart was beating out his chest, and his face felt warm. It was ridiculous how so simple a sentence could make him feel this way.

_“Bye then.”_

“Bye,” Zev said, and he set the phone down on the receiver.

* * *

Zev got off the bus, almost a quarter of an hour early, in front of the diner. He wanted to make sure he’d be on time, and to be certain that he’d find it. Yes, he had been the one who’d suggested the place, but if he was honest, he’d never been there. He let out a heavy, slightly shaky breath and smoothed the front of his waistcoat, and switched his coat from his right to left hand, then back again, and back once more before finally going up to the door and walking inside.

“Afternoon, sir, be with you in just a mo,” said a young lady with a ponytail and a bright smile from a counter across the room.

She had an empty tray under one arm as she sorted through a stack of small slips of paper beside the cash register. Zev looked around the room to see if he could spot someone who he thought might be the mysterious Anthony Crowley whose voice he knew so well, but whose appearance still eluded him. All he really had to go off was shoulder length red hair and black snakeskin boots, and really, that wasn’t a lot. He might not even be wearing those same shoes, and, well, his hair could be up or down or in any number of styles.

“Alright,” she said, suddenly in front of him, smoothing out her apron and smiling just as brightly as she had before. “Sorry ‘bout the wait. How can I help you?”

“Er,” Zev hesitated, “I’m here to meet someone.”

“Name?” she asked.

“Crowley,” he said, blinking, “Anthony Crowley.”

“Ah, yes,” she said, turning and starting to walk. “He’s right over here. Mr. Fell, he said you are?”

“Yes,” Zev said.

“Yep, this is him.”

He followed her to a booth, one of the center ones along the side wall. For a moment, she blocked his view, but coming closer, he saw a man sitting at the table.

“Mr. Fell for you,” she said, and stepped back as Anthony rose to his feet and took a step forward.

“Zev,” he beamed, extending a hand, which Zev took, functioning almost on autopilot.

He was tall, several centimeters taller than Zev, quite thin, too, and he wore his hair—which was, as he had said, red and shoulder length—back in a half-bun. He had sunglasses tucked into the neck of a black shirt. All his clothes, in fact, were black.

“Hi,” Zev said after a moment, smiling up at him. He was still holding his hand, he realized, and let it go. “Ha,” he breathed, stunned. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Anthony said, smiling. It was that same smile, the one Zev had heard so many times in his voice over the phone, about ten times more brilliant than he’d imagined.

“So,” said the young woman, regaining their attention abruptly, “I guess I’ll leave you two then. Be back in a few to take your order?”

“Thank you, Clara,” Anthony said, nodding to her.

“’Course,” she said, and bounced off.

“So,” Anthony said slowly, looking him over. “At long last, eh?”

“Yeah,” Zev said, looking down at the surface of the table, hoping he didn’t appear as nervous as he felt. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. Did I say that?”

“I think so, but you’re welcome to say it again,” Anthony said, and he nodded toward the table as he moved to sit down. Zev sat across from him. “I quite agree. It’s…it’s so nice.”

His eyes lit up in the dim, artificial light, a lovely shade of brown, Zev realized.

Anthony chuckled softly, looking down at his hands, which were folded on the table in front of him. “I really hope that now we’re meeting we haven’t suddenly run out of things to say.”

“There’s so much I’d like to say, actually,” Zev said. “So much I’d like to ask you. I just don’t know where to start.” He laughed now, too. “How was traffic?”

“Well,” Anthony said, relaxing a bit, “not too bad, you know, for London. Quite tolerable actually. But then, I only drove six blocks.”

Zev laughed, and nodded. “Right. Well, that’s good.”

“I still can’t get over the fact that you’re actually here. That I’m here, seeing you,” Anthony said softly, shaking his head.

“Me either,” Zev said.

“You look nothing like a little old librarian, you know,” he said, then quickly added: “Er, you know, like we joked about.”

“Kind of you to say,” Zev laughed. “But,” he said, retrieving his reading glasses from his pocket and putting them on, peering over the tops at him, “what about now?”

“Okay, now I see it,” Anthony said, laughing with him. “And do I look like what you expected?”

“No,” said Zev.

“No?”

“Better,” Zev said.

“Hmm,” he intoned, looking down at the table, a pinkish tint rising in his cheeks. “Kind of you to say.”

“And I must admit I did go looking for pictures,” said Zev. “You know, just to know who to be looking for.” A lie, but a harmless one, he told himself. “Couldn’t find a one.”

“Very private, like I said,” said Anthony softly.

Zev nodded. “Not a bad thing to be.”

“No,” said Anthony. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m quite private, too, really,” he said. “Hardly leave my shop or my flat if I don’t have to or unless there’s something I’d really like to go and see, a film or a play, or some new exhibit at the museum. Just more comfortable that way. My roommate, Gabriel, he’s always trying to get me to go out to parties and things.”

“My cousin’s the same,” Anthony said, “Bea. They work at the station, too. Them and Gogo, they try to get me to go out a lot. I go to company functions, of course, show my face at events, dinners, fundraisers.”

“Oh, I should tell you.”

“Hm?” Anthony hummed, taking a sip of water from the glass that was sitting in front of him.

“Bea,” Zev said. “They’re, erm, they’re seeing my roommate.”

“Is that so?” he smiled. “Oh, I’ve probably met him then. Small world.”

“Mmhmm,” Zev affirmed.

“What’s he look like, your roommate?”

“Big, tall fellow. Dresses sort of nice, but also sort of like a rich university student,” he said, vaguely amused. “Er, American.”

“Ah, yes!” Anthony said. “Gabe! He comes around sometimes, holiday parties and small get-togethers.”

“That’s my roommate,” said Zev, taking a sip of his own water.

A few tables away, Clara, the young waitress, was chatting up a family with two small children.

“Oh, here she comes,” Anthony said quietly, picking up his menu. “We should probably at least pretend we’ve been looking.”

“Alright,” Zev said, opening the menu in front of him. “What do you usually get? I haven’t been here before.”

Anthony scanned the menu quickly, turning to the back page, and showing it to him. “The soup and sandwich, usually. Comes with crisps or a salad.”

“Fish and chips any good?”

“Not had that here, but probably so,” said Anthony. “I think it’s a popular one.”

“Alrighty then, gentlemen,” Clara said, suddenly standing beside the table. “Have we decided?”

“What’s the soup of the day?” Anthony asked, smiling politely to her.

“Cheese and potato,” she said.

“Alright,” Anthony said. “That and a…roast beef sandwich?”

“Salad or crisps to go with it?”

“Oh, the crisps today, I think,” he said, cutting a glance over to Zev, who was still looking at the menu.

“Aaalright,” she said, writing his order down on a little notepad. “And you, sir?”

Zev looked up. “What kind of fish is in the fish and chips?”

“Cod. Is that alright?”

“That sounds wonderful,” he said, returning her smile.

“Wonderful,” she said, echoing him as she copied his order down as well. “Have that right out to you.”

“Thanks,” said Zev, looking after her as she departed. “She’s very nice.”

“She is,” Anthony agreed, his eyes on Zev’s hands, which were resting on the table. “Can I, erm…?”

“What?” Zev asked quietly.

Anthony nodded toward his hands, and Zev moved one towards Anthony’s, letting him take it. Zev’s heart skipped a beat.

“Thanks,” Anthony said with a small, breathy sort of chuckle.

His hand was warm and soft, and Zev liked the way it felt in his own.

Zev nodded. “’Course.”

“This isn’t too much, is it? I’m not moving too fast for you?”

“We’ve already made love,” said Zev, and Anthony’s eyes widened. “I don’t think holding hands is too much.”

“It’s hard to tell, you know?” said Anthony after a moment. “We’ve known each other for, God, six months, but we haven’t actually met physically.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “In person, I mean.”

“No, that does make it a bit confusing,” Zev said, rubbing his thumb slowly over the back of Anthony’s hand. He noticed Anthony’s nails were painted black, and from the looks of it painted very recently, and he smiled. “But I think we should just play it by ear, right? Try to just do what feels natural until it’s easier?”

“Yeah,” Anthony said, smiling. “Don’t want to rush into anything, just in case.”

“Exactly.”

Their food was out a moment later, and they let go of one another’s hands so they could eat. They ate slowly, as though they were trying to prolong their time together. And maybe they were, Zev thought. He wasn’t sure what would happen after the meal, if they would stay and talk a while, or if they would go for a walk or a drive. It crossed his mind briefly that they might find their way back to one of their flats, which made his face burn again and he hoped that wasn’t too obvious. That would have to wait. They’d only just met, for heaven’s sake. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that, or to even think of that sort of thing. But then, they’d already done something of the sort. Anthony was right. It was all hard to tell what was acceptable, and quite confusing.

“Everything alright?” Anthony asked, apparently noticing something was on Zev’s mind.

“Oh, yes,” Zev smiled. “What was it you were saying about the ducks?”

Anthony nodded and popped a crisp into his mouth, which he chewed as he talked, his hand in front of his mouth. “Right. Erm, I was just saying that the ducklings are getting big. They’re all over the lake, walking around that part of the park. Fucking adorable.” He swallowed his food. “We could go there after we eat. They might still be out.”

“That would be nice,” said Zev with a smile.

“Alright,” Anthony said, returning the smile.

* * *

They finally left the restaurant almost two hours later, when Clara came over to their table and informed them ever so cheerily that it was now closing time and they would sadly have to leave. As they strolled peacefully down the paved path toward the park’s exit gate, the duck pond gradually disappearing behind them, Zev looked over at Anthony, who stood quite close beside him indeed. The sun was setting, and the way the light caught in his hair was just magnificent, like something in a film, the kind so old and cheesy you’d never admit to liking, but which always makes you smile, or cry, for one reason or another.

“What’re you looking at?” Anthony said with a small laugh.

“I’m very happy,” he replied.

Anthony stopped, and he smiled a stupidly wide, uncontrollable grin at Zev as he stopped a few steps ahead of him. “So am I,” he said, coming to stand in front on him. He took his hand in his again. “Isn’t that something?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The young American woman shopping at A.Z. Fell & Co. was Anathema, in case it wasn't obvious. I just wanted to slip her in somewhere in there.
> 
> Thank you so much for taking this journey with me, and I hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think!
> 
> This fic is over now, but I do have a followup sort-of in the works, and I've received a request for a scene or two from Anthony's perspective, so you might see something of that sort in the next few weeks or months.


End file.
